


On This Merry Christmas Night

by Bizarra



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: 25 Days of Voyager, But You'll Like Him, F/M, Fluff With A Minor Side of Angst, Free-writing, Merry Christmas, Original Character(s), Post-Endgame, but it's all good in the end, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bizarra/pseuds/Bizarra
Summary: Kathryn takes a walk on Christmas Eve, Eve that changes her life.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 26
Kudos: 94
Collections: 25 Days of Voyager (2019)





	On This Merry Christmas Night

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to all of my readers! Without you and your kudos, comments, and encouragement throughout the year, my muse would have dried up. Instead the crazy shark has ideas for days. It is my hope that next year proves to be just as productive as this year!
> 
> This one is for each and every one of you!

_This night we pray_  
_(We are waiting)_  
_Our lives will show_  
_(We have not forgotten)_  
_This dream he had_  
_(We are waiting)_  
_Each child still knows_  
_(We have not forgotten)_  
_ Christmas Canon _  
_ Lyrics: Paul O’Neill, Trans-Siberian Orchestra _

Kathryn Janeway was alone as she walked through the park. The sun had just set on a clear cool Bay Area night. The evergreen trees that lined the path sparkled with Christmas lights. Children played happily while one or both of their parents watched. She sighed and burrowed deeper into the collar of her tan winter coat. She’d forgotten just how damned cold December in San Francisco could get when the sun went down. Forgotten. She huffed into the chilly air, her breath visible briefly before the moisture dissipated. Seven years on a climate-controlled starship would do that.

What bloody luck was it that Voyager arrived safe and sound three damned days before Christmas. The newsreels were playing it up as if it were a Christmas miracle. On the rebound from a war that included horrific atrocities — on both sides — and a devastating attack on Earth; it was a miracle Starfleet sorely needed. Kathryn tugged her knit cap down tighter over her head to cover as much of her face as she could. The last thing she’d ever wanted was to become a poster girl for the Federation, but there she was. Everywhere she looked; her face looked back. And all she could see was a fake smile on a woman who was miserable.

They say that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. That’s the damned truth.

She stopped at a crosswalk, awaiting the light to turn in her favor. She had no idea where she was going. Feeling the walls close in on her, she’d left her Starfleet assigned apartment and picked a course. Kathryn had no set destination, and for once it felt damned good. Maybe she’d walk back to the Delta Quadrant. Because right now, it felt more like home than home did.

God, she could use a coffee.

Kathryn diverted her path and headed for the closest coffee shop. A part of her knew it was a terrible idea. Someone would recognize her. She’d have a microphone shoved into her face. The damned reporters had camped out at every cafe within shouting distance of headquarters. Smart assholes, they were.

But desperation for a caffeine fix won out, so she picked her poison and chose a small place that looked, well, it looked quiet. Her brow furrowed, was it even open? She reached for the doorknob and tried it. To her relief it opened into a warm, cozy looking shop that smelled glorious. With her guard up, she glanced around fully expecting someone in her face at any moment. But there wasn’t a soul in sight. 

Except for the man behind the counter.

“Hello there.” He spoke softly, a heavy Irish brogue in his voice. “Can I get you something?”

She smiled, the first real smile since Voyager had burst out of that Borg sphere. The words that came out of her mouth were not what she’d intended to say. Truth was often spoken with little thought. “Some peace and quiet.”

He lightly laughed and nodded. “I can do that.” He stepped from behind the counter to his front door and pulled the shade over the glass. He flipped the ‘open’ sign and locked the door. “There.” He moved back to the counter. “You won’t be bothered.”

She’d been around the universe enough to know his actions should have set off alarm bells, but they didn’t. She felt nothing but genuine care from him. Kathryn knew he knew who she was. The slight widening of his eyes when she’d entered had given that away, but he hadn’t so much as hinted that he knew.

“Have a seat.” He smiled warmly. “There are plenty available. It’s Christmas Eve, most of my customers are with family.” He idly wiped off the wood top of the counter. “Can I get you anything?” He smirked, “besides black coffee I mean.” It was the only verbal indication that he knew her.

She chose a table near the wall and removed her outerwear. It was no use hiding behind the coat and hat. Feeling well at ease, Kathryn shrugged. “I’ve already had dinner, so you choose something for me.”

He nodded and set about filling her order. Kathryn leaned her chin against her hand and watched him. He was an unassuming man, graying brown hair that was slightly too long to pass muster and earlier she’d noticed he had clear blue eyes. She didn’t want to hazard a guess as to his age, but he was likely not much older than fifty. She sat back as he approached with a hot cup of coffee and a plate that contained a slice of pecan pie.

“This looks delicious,” she said as he set the pie in front of her.

“Mother’s special,” he told her as he turned to move away.

She patted the table. “Sit.” Kathryn gestured to the empty room. “If you think you can spare the time.”

She smiled when he laughed lightly. He lifted a finger, went to retrieve his own coffee and then eased into the chair opposite hers. She unfolded the napkin, lay it across her lap, then took a forkful of the pie. “Mmm, delicious.”

“Thank you,” he demurred. “The recipe has been handed down for generations.”

“Don’t you need to be home with your own family?” She asked. A brief flash of sadness crossed his eyes and she frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get pers —”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known.” He took a sip of the hot liquid and sat back. “My… wife and kids died when the Breen attacked the city.” He spoke quietly, “I was on the _Cousteau_ unable to do anything to help… them.” He quickly brushed his hand against his face. She knew he didn’t want her to see his tears. So she ignored them.

“So many lives lost...” She muttered, not having a true idea of what to say. She’d heard his story, or similar versions of it from the Maquis.

He laughed mirthlessly then and snapped, “what would you know of it? You were conveniently on the other side of the galaxy.” He abruptly stood, his chair clattering backwards. He stopped at the counter and clenched his fist atop it.

She leaned back, abruptly reminded that she was alone and locked in with this man.

As suddenly as he raged, he calmed. “No,” he turned and pointed a finger upward, “that was unfair of me. I’m sure you had your own share of battles to barely survive. I apologize.” He pivoted and grabbed a bottle off a high cabinet and returned to the table. She could see it was a bottle of Jameson. He poured a generous helping into his coffee, then offered it to her. She pushed her cup forward, accepting the addition gladly.

He righted his chair and sat. “After the war, I resigned,” he lifted his hand, “came back to this place and never left the planet again.” He turned to face her and placed both arms on the table. “So tell me, Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager, why aren’t you with family tonight?”

She sipped her coffee, closing her eyes at the sharp tang the whiskey added and shrugged, “I don’t quite know yet who my family is. Where my family is.” She reached for the bottle and tipped it into the cup, now filled with more Irish than coffee. Kathryn held the bottle toward him, asking with her eyes if he wanted more. He shook his head no, so she set it down and continued. “My blood family is in Indiana.” She took another drink. “My Voyager family is probably on his way to Sweden right now with —“

“His?”

Her eyes sharply moved upward to meet the kind face of her companion. Did she say _his_? Kathryn thought back to what she’d said. Damn. She shook her head to clear that memory. “They’re spread out all over is what I meant to say.” She cradled the mug in her hands.

“Kathryn, if I may call you that.” He hesitated until she nodded her assent, “what about you?”

“Tomorrow, I’ll get together with those crew members who have no family on Earth,” she told him.

“Will that make you happy?”

She cocked her head and wondered why he would ask a question like that, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, after seven years of making other people happy, what would make you happy?”

A face immediately popped to mind, but she sent it away quickly. That ship had sailed. In fact, that ship sailed with a buxom blonde, the likes of which she couldn’t hold a candle to.

“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.”

Her brow lifted. Had she spoken aloud? “How would you know?”

He smirked, “It’s written all over your face, Captain.”

“Kathryn.” She took another belt of her coffee-flavored whiskey. “Just once, I would love for someone else to call me Kathryn.”

“Someone else?”

“Anyone else!” She snapped. “For the last seven years only one person has called me…” Her voice hitched, “Kathryn.” She left the table, walked to the nearest wall and gave it a solid punch. Then she lost her balance and fell against it. The moment she hit the solid obstacle, she lost control of her emotions and alternated between hitting the wall and sobbing against it.

It wasn’t long before she felt arms around her, easing her to the floor and against him. She alternated between sobs and whimpers, mumbling about everything from Borg to Hirogen, life and death, Starfleet and Maquis. She excised seven years of guilt and pain, loneliness and fear in the arms of a complete stranger.

She had no idea how long they’d sat on the floor, but when she finally settled and looked toward the kind man who had given up his Christmas Eve to care about her, she noticed he’d been crying too. “I’m…” she moved to get up, “sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She knelt, then stood. “I hope I didn’t say anything,” she wiped at her face as she moved to the table to retrieve her coat. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk—” 

“About what happened here?” He stood and gave her a compassionate smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Kathryn.” He gave a slight bow to his head and helped her into her coat.

“How much do I owe you?” She asked, “for the coffee and the whiskey,” she glanced around. “And the lost business.”

He shook his head. “The only payment I ask is that you go to him, Kathryn.” He lay his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Tell him how you feel. How you’ve felt all along.”

“I can’t do that.”

He began to clear the table of dishes. “Yes, you can. If he loves you, he will have already parted with the other lass.” He piled the items on the counter. “If not, then you come back here and we’ll run this place together.” He tapped a finger aside his nose and gave her a wink.

“Thank you…” she hesitated when she realized she hadn’t gotten his name. “What do I call you?”

“Seamus, my dear Kathryn. Seamus Doherty.” he bowed. “At your service.”

She smiled, then leaned to press a kiss on his cheek. “Well, Seamus Doherty, you have a good Christmas. Thank you, for listening.”

He smiled, then unlocked the door for her. “Off you go. Have a happy Christmas yourself, Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager.” 

She bid her new friend farewell and stepped out of the coffee shop. Remembering that she hadn’t looked at the name of the cafe before she went in, Kathryn turned to find the name. _Caife Doherty_. She would remember that.

—

Kathryn untied her scarf as she stepped out of the turbolift onto an upper floor of the building where Starfleet was temporarily housing the Voyager crew. She smiled as she caught the sounds of voices, soft and loud, talking and… was that crying? Given the floor, she could only assume it was her higher ranked officers and senior staff. As she stepped closer, she could see many apartment doors open wide and people wandering in and out between rooms. A few noticed her and stopped what they were doing to gape. Some called to her. Was that surprise in their voices?

She turned the corner to her own quarters and stopped. There, leaning against the front of her door waiting for her was the last person she expected to see that night. Distantly in her mind, she heard Seamus’ voice reminding her to talk to him. She shook the whispers away and stepped closer, tugging the scarf from around her neck.

“Hi.”

He quickly stood straight. “Kathryn!” His gaze travelled over her. “Are you okay? Where have you been?”

She furrowed her brows in confusion. “I’m… fine.” She stepped closer and noticed that his eyes were red. “What’s happened, Chakotay?”

He squelched a sob and pulled her into a desperate embrace. “I thought I’d lost you.“

“I just went for a walk.” His chest muffled her comment.

“That was yesterday evening.”

She pushed away, “What?” She shook her head. “No. I left this evening just after dinner. I was only gone…”

“Nearly thirty hours.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “That’s not possible. I went for a walk in the park, then found a coffee shop, talked with the owner for a bit, and came back here. I couldn’t have been gone longer than three hours.”

Chakotay grabbed her hand, tapped her door code, and pulled her inside. Once they were standing in her living room, his hands were everywhere, checking her for… what? She backed away, “Chakotay. I’m fine! What is going on?”

“I’m sorry. I was worried. We were all worried.” He drifted his hand through his hair. “Gretchen is climbing the walls.”

“You called my mother?”

“You’ve been missing for over a day.”

She started to say something, but decided against it. She slipped out of her coat and plopped down onto the couch. “I don’t understand how this is possible. I swear to you, I only left this evening.”

Chakotay dragged his hands down his face, then sat next to her with a heavy sigh. “We are in San Francisco, right? This is real?”

She reached and took his hand. “We are home.” She gave his hand a squeeze, then moved to her comm unit. “Let me look up that coffee shop, then we can go down there and speak to the owner. He’ll tell you I was only there for an hour or so.”

She leaned over the desk chair and keyed in the shop's name and when the results came in; she moved and slowly dropped into the chair, her hand going over her mouth. She read and discarded article after article. She then searched for Seamus Doherty and felt her throat close up.

“Kathryn?” She felt Chakotay move closer and crouch next to her. “What is it?”

“This is the man I was speaking with tonight; that I had Irish Coffee with tonight.” She turned the screen for him to read.

_During the Breen attack, the damaged USS Cousteau slammed into a Richmond District neighborhood two days ago, killing its entire crew complement and twelve people on the ground. Among those dead were the family of one of the Cousteau’s crewmen, a Lt. Seamus Doherty, who also perished in the crash. Doherty’s wife ran a local coffee shop, Caife Doherty. She and both of her sons were inside the shop when it was leveled._

She stood and walked across the room. “I do not understand this.” She turned, “I drank coffee and whiskey with that man, in that shop. I ate a slice of his pecan pie. I cried on his shoulder.” She looked around trying to make sense of what had occurred. “He told me to tell you.” she muttered quietly.

“Tell me what?”

She quickly faced him. Damn he had good hearing. She watched him for a moment. Weighing whether she should. “I don’t know…” she stopped. Slightly lifted, then dropped her arms at her side, “I love you.” She turned, afraid to see what his reaction would be. He wasn’t hers to love anymore. Anymore? Had he ever been? Her inner monologue was interrupted when she felt hands drift down her arms.

“Kathryn…”

She froze, almost afraid to breathe. He would remind her he was with Seven now. That she’d lost the chance...

“I love you, too.”

... that she’d be lucky if he still wanted to be her frie… what did he just say? “You still love me?”

“I never stopped, Kathryn.” He turned her to face him. “I tried to stop. Because I thought you had stopped…”

“Seven?”

He shook his head. “That’s over.” He shrugged, “when you disappeared and I thought,” he moved to the couch and sat. “I thought something had happened to you. I realized you would never leave my heart and I could never replace you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping away tears he didn’t want her to see. “Seven understood and asked that we remain friends.” He looked up at her then, “are you really here, or are you a figment of my desperate imagination?”

She lowered to her knees in front of him and cradled his face in her hands. “I’m really here.” She leaned closer and pressed a kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

He stood and picked her up with him. “Promise me, you’ll never leave me again.” he whispered against her lips.

She broke the kiss and watched him as he carried her into the bedroom. “I’m here for good. I couldn’t leave you again if I tried.”

—

Kathryn woke up Christmas morning in the arms of the man she had loved for seven years and decided that she was never waking anywhere else again.

After a good breakfast, she and Chakotay transported to Bloomington and spent the day with her family. That evening though, they had plans. The first of which was to get a bottle of Jameson for Seamus and one for themselves.

The walk through the neighborhood where the little coffee shop used to be was pleasant. She stopped at the empty block and pointed to Chakotay where it had been. “I don’t know how to explain what happened or where I was for those missing hours, but I know _Caife Doherty_ was right there.” 

She twisted the lid off the bottle she carried and poured it into the ground. “Slàinte, Seamus Doherty. May you find your happiness in Tír na nÓg with your family.” She saved enough for a drink each. She tipped the bottle and drank, then handed it to Chakotay, who followed suit. “Thank you, Seamus. I wish I had known you in life.”

“That was good whiskey you just wasted.”

Kathryn pivoted at the voice. Her eyes widened as she saw, well, it could only be a ghost. “Seamus!”

He waved his arm downward, “I know you know.” He walked up to Chakotay, then glanced back at her. “This the guy?”

Kathryn held back a grin while Seamus looked Chakotay over as if he were assessing his worth. “Yes, that’s him.”

“I see you told him.” The man turned to her, “you did tell him, right?”

“I did,” Kathryn admitted with amusement.

Seamus faced Chakotay again, “you love her?”

Kathryn tried very hard to hold in the laugh as Chakotay’s eyes met hers briefly before lighting back on their ghostly friend. “I do, yes.”

Seamus crossed his arms. “You’d better say ‘I do’. Because, I’ve decided I like her. She reminds me of mine. And if you hurt her, I will haunt you no matter where you go.”

“Uh, I don’t think there’s a chance of that happening, Seamus.”

The Irish spirit leaned closer, almost nose to nose with Chakotay. Kathryn crossed her arms and watched. “No chance of saying ‘I do’ or no chance of hurting her?”

Chakotay began to smile, “Seamus, I will never hurt her, I can promise that.” His eyes met hers, “as for the ‘I do’, anytime you are ready, Kathryn.”

“She’s ready now.”

“Seamus!” Both Kathryn and Chakotay scolded their ghostly friend who laughed.

“Okay, I’m going. Name your firstborn after me, will ya? Seamus is a good hearty name.” The spirit then realized the pair were kissing. “And you’ve stopped listening to me.” He chuckled. “Welp, I’m off now.”

“But I will be keeping an eye out for you, because Seamus Doherty has just earned his wings.”

And somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.


End file.
